Harry Potter and the Turncoat
by AngelZash
Summary: Harry's been captured by Voldemort--and the Ministry helped capture him. Can he be rescued in time?
1. Simple Capture

Well, I decided to write another story for Harry Potter. This one has nothing to do with the other stories I have up, it's just something I got in my head and decided to write. There's an original character I w3anted to test out in fan fiction before putting in any stories and so I decided to go ahead and write. Also, Chapter 13 of the other will be up as soon as ff.net lets me put it up. 

Disclaimer: I am not getting any money from this. In fact, I am a broke college struggling to graduate on time due to having transferred due to finances. This means you are wasting your time in suing me as the judge will laugh you out of court, seeing as all I have are debts. If you really want them though, I'll give you ALL my debts! ;o

As always, ENJOY!!

  
  


Harry hadn't been out of school a week and he already wanted to go back. He'd take anything over the agony of having to do his Aunt's laundry. There was just something about being forced to wash underwear large enough to fit Hagrid and ladies undergarments that Harry just couldn't get used to. 

He threw in the last of Aunt Petunia's bras, a purple, lacy contraption that was designed to make it seem that its wearer had more than she really did, poured in some detergent and hit the start button. As soon as he was sure the washer was going, he raced out of the laundry and up the stairs to his own before his Aunt could give him anything else to do. 

Once in his room, he pulled out an unfinished Potions essay and sat down at his desk to attempt finishing it. It was slow going, as he found himself stopping to listen for his Aunt every few minutes, but eventually he finished and sat back with a sigh of relief.

Just in time too, because his Aunt chose then to call up the stairs, "Harry! Harry, you lazy boy! Get down here and finish the laundry!"

Harry sighed and called back, "Yes, Aunt Petunia! I'm coming!" He put his Potions book and essay away quickly before hurrying out the door and down the stairs. 

"You layabout," his aunt told him as she shoved him down the hall towards the laundry room. "What did you think you were doing? Trying to force my Duddilykins to wear dirty clothes?"

"No, Aunt Petunia," Harry answered dejectedly as he made his way through the house. "I was just finishing something before switching it over."

Aunt Petunia snorted as she turned to go back into the kitchen. "Once you're finished there, weed the front garden," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.

Harry rolled his eyes and began unloading the washer and throwing clothes into the dryer. This time a pair of Dudley's tent-like boxers fell out onto the tile floor. Harry gave a grin as he looked at them. They were very large, but that only meant there was plenty of room for the pattern. All over the boxers were large Teletubbies grinning and looking as ridiculous as they did on tv. Harry picked them up and threw them in with the rest of the clothes as he fought valiantly against laughter.

He was just throwing another load into the washer when the doorbell rang. He ignored it, pouring detergent into the washer instead. He jumped, sending detergent flying, when his aunt's scream rent the air.

Harry's heart still as fear ran through his body. His stomach clenched and his eyes widened as his body froze in place. Finally he heard footsteps approaching and his hand moved to where he had hidden his wand.

"We're with the Ministry, Mrs. Dursley. We're here to protect your family and nephew," Harry heard a man say. His hand dropped down beside him as he breathed a sigh of relief and the fear bled out of him.

Two men dressed in mis-matched Muggle business suits walked through the narrow doorway as Harry's aunt followed nervously behind. Harry noted that she was paler than usual and was shaking badly. He guessed that it was a bad fright for her to see two men like these in her home without her husband there to protect her. 

"What have you done now, Harry," she asked him shrilly, her voice betraying her fear.

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia," Harry told her as he eyed the two men. 

"Get your things, Harry," the tallest of the two told him.

"Why? What's happened," Harry asked, nervousness beginning to creep back into him. 

"It's for your own safety. You're to be relocated to someplace less accessible to You-Know-Who's followers," the smallest of the two told him.

"I thought you were denying his return," Harry said, backing up a little and wishing his aunt would just start running. He knew something was wrong and did not want anyone else to die like Cedric, even his aunt.

"He hasn't," Tall Man told him irritably. "Now go get your trunk!"

The last was said as the man grabbed Harry by the arm and practically dragged him out of the cramped room. Harry stumbled ahead of them to his room, his arm held in a tight grip by the man all the way. He threw his books back into his trunk, thanked God Hedwig was out delivering a letter to Ron and watched as Small Man levitated his trunk. He followed it out the door, back down the stairs and to the rather normal looking black car parked by the curb. Small Man packed it into the trunk as Tall Man directed Harry firmly into the back seat.

Harry stared out his window at his frightened aunt as the car pulled away and he hoped the feeling in his stomach was wrong.

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He smiled as the call came in. They had him. They had captured Harry Potter. It hadn't mattered that Dumbledore had set up precaution after precaution. It hadn't mattered that the boy was one of the most protected people on the face of the earth. They had him and he had been simple to get.

The man grinned as he lounged in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. The Dark Lord was going to be very happy with him. He'd be well-rewarded when they'd won this little war. And until then, HE'D be the Dark Lord's right hand man. HIM, not Lucius Malfoy or any one else. HIM.

And then it'd only be a short jump to being the ruler of the world instead of his master. But all in good time.

"Make sure Potter is well taken care of," he told his lackey, who nodded his understanding. "I can't have our lord receiving a damaged gift, now can I?"


	2. Fear Stops the Heart

Well, here's Chapter two. Sorry it took so long, but one, it's longer than the chapters in my other stories and two, I kinda have a busy schedule right now. I hope you like this chapter. The next one will introduce my original character, who will be as original as they come. He'll be something...unexpected. And just so that no questions arise later on, this story will never be slash. Sorry, but it is just not going to happen this story.

ENJOY!!

  
  


Ron Weasley sat in his room reluctantly going through his old Famous Wizard card collection. It was a sunny, breezy day outside with seemingly every bird in all of England singing brightly their favorite merry song. Ron looked up and out from his cards every now and then to stare at the sunshine that spilled into his room to torment him with the knowledge of what he was missing while his mother forced him to clean his room.

"That room is a cluttered haven for pigs," his mother had exclaimed when she'd demanded it be cleaned this morning.

Personally, Ron didn't see her point. It wasn't a pig sty, just a little unorganized. He just needed to separate his dirty clothes pile from his clean clothes pile, put them away and find somewhere to put his comic collection that had somehow managed to take over the room. 

Thankfully, he was almost finished. All that was left now was for him to find somewhere to put his card collection that was now displaced from their old area for the growing comic collection. But that was after he'd managed to finally separate them from his comics. It seemed that they had lost their battle for their space to the comics long before then. 

With a deep sigh, Ron gave up his search, knowing he'd find the last three cards when he'd least expect them and put the rest in a drawer in his bedside table. He looked around his room and decided that the only thing left for his mother to complain about was his unmade bed. He shrugged and flopped into it, feeling that she couldn't complain about it if he was in it napping.

He'd almost fallen asleep when a high pitched scratching at the window brought him back from the warm clutches of darkness. Ron looked up and back over at the window where Hedwig flew desperately trying to get in.

Ron grinned and cried, "Harry," excitedly before racing over to throw open the window. Hedwig flew straight in and began hooting almost as excitedly as Pig was wont to do. She dropped a letter in Ron's hands before settling onto Pig's currently empty perch and continuing to hoot regretfully. Ron watched her, surprised by her unusual antics.

"What's wrong, Hedwig," he asked, reaching out to pet her. Hedwig hooted sadly and looked up at him with eyes full of sorrow. 

Ron shook his head and looked down at the letter. It was the same one he had sent to Harry two days before. 

"You brought me my letter back," Ron gasped, his eyes wide as fear gripped his stomach. "B-b-but..."

Before finishing even the thought, Ron turned and raced from the room to his mother.

"Mum," he called, running into the kitchen, looking for all the world as though Voldemort himself was on his heels. "Mum, my letter to Harry! It came back! Hedwig brought it back!" 

Mrs. Weasley watched her son in surprise, "You wrote a letter to Harry?"

Ron nodded vigorously, "Yeah, but it came back unopened. I don't think Hedwig ever got to deliver it."

Mrs Weasley eyes lit with worry as she turned over the obviously undelivered letter in her hand. Quickly she moved past her son and up the stairs to Ron's room where Hedwig still sat hooting sadly on Pig's perch. She pet Hedwig's feathers back and looked the sad snowy owl over.

"Couldn't you find Harry," she asked the poor creature.

  
  


Hedwig hooted a negative softly while fluffing her feathers to show her irritation at her failure.

A worried look passed over Mrs Weasley's face as her mind finally grasped the idea that Harry may be missing. She turned quickly to her wide-eyed son who had followed her up.

"Ron, I'm going to Harry's house to find out what has happened. Watch your sister and tell your father where I am," she told him before disapparating away.

Ron nodded and, giving Hedwig a treat she refused to eat, ran back downstairs to the fireplace to try and contact his father.

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Mrs Weasley apparated to just in front on the Dursley home, thankful that was sun was just beginning to set. She had forgotten any need of secrecy in her worry for the boy who seemed like another son to her. With a quick look at her surroundings, she hurried up to the Dursley's front door and knocked loudly. A few moments later the front door was opened to reveal a very large boy.

"Hello," Mrs Weasley said to him as calmly as she could manage. "Is your mother home?"

The boy looked her over carefully, his eyes widening with growing terror as he noted the tattered robes she wore and long wand she carried. He squeaked in fear and stumbled back, knocking the door wide open as he did so. He stumbled back up as quickly as his ponderous body would allow and ran screaming into the kitchen, "MUMMY!"

Mrs Weasley stood stunned on the doorstep, her mouth hanging open and her robes blowing gently with a soft, cool breeze. After a moment she began to step into the small home and politely closed the door behind her. She turned back around and followed the boy's hurried path into a small kitchen where he stood crying into a woman's chest who looked like she would be engulfed in his fat folds at any moment. 

The woman looked up at that moment and noticed Mrs Weasley standing in her kitchen. Her long face grew even longer as her mouth dropped open and her blue eyes opened wide to shine fear out at Mrs Weasley. 

"What do you want," the woman, Mrs Dursley, demanded of Mrs Weasley.

"My son sent Harry a letter," Mrs Weasley told her, "but Hedwig couldn't deliver it."

"I can't help that," Mrs Dursley told her sharply, moving in a useless attempt to block her overly large son from the witch in her kitchen. "I'm not his keeper."

Anger at the other woman's callousness exploded in Mrs. Weasley, coating her vision in a crimson hue. She took a dangerous step toward Mrs Dursley, her very being seeming to radiate her furious state. Mrs Dursley shrunk back from her with a little cry that was echoed by her son.

"What do you mean, 'You're not his keeper,'" Mrs Weasley asked, her words clipped and dripping with the threat of death. "You are his aunt? He does live with you? Where is he!"

Mrs Dursley began to shake with fear and she whimpered before answering, "I-I don't know. T-t-two men from your ministry came and took him. Said it was for his protection."

Surprise flooded into Mrs Weasley as she digested this information. They couldn't have taken Harry, could they? She hadn't heard anything about it... She had to ask her husband about this.

"Did they tell you their names," she growled at Mrs Dursley.

Mrs Dursley shook her head, blonde hair flying about her plain, pale face, "N-no. J-j-just that they were Ministry of Magic. I-I-I don't think Harry wanted to go, but what could I do about it."

"Tell them no," Mrs Weasley growled at her, causing her to flinch. "He was your nephew! If anything's happened to him, it will be your fault."

Mrs Dursley open her mouth to protest, but Mrs Weasley had already disapparated away. 

Mrs Weasley apparated straight into her husband's office, surprising him as he seemed to grabbing his wand.

"Molly," he cried, surprised. "I just heard from Ron. Did you find Harry?"

Mrs Weasley shook her head, tears forming in her eyes, "No. His aunt said the ministry came and took him." 

Mr Weasley's mouth opened in a large "O" as he gasped. He shook his head and sat down in a nearby chair.

"The ministry," he repeated breathlessly. "But I never heard anything about it. When did it happen?"

Mrs Weasley shook her head sadly, "I don't know. That horrible woman made me so angry I never thought to ask."

Mr Weasley nodded, understanding what his wife meant perfectly. He'd never liked Harry's family and liked them even less after he had met them the summer before.

"Go find Dumbledore and tell him what's happened. He needs to know what has happened. I'm going to see what I can discover here," Mr Weasley told his wife. He stood and walked over to enfold her in a comforting hug.

Tears began to overflow in Mrs Weasley's eyes as her husband hugged her. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her own arms around him.

"How could anyone be so callous about their own children," she mumbled.

"He's not their child, Molly," Mr Weasley told her gently. "He never was. They were just where he lived."

"But how could she just let him go, not even TRY to protect him," she cried confused. "He's just a baby, Arthur!"

"We'll find him, Molly," Mr Weasley told her. "And then he'll never have to go back to them." 

Sniffing, Mrs Weasley nodded. She stepped back and wiped her tears away. 

"I'd better get to Dumbledore," she said. "Be careful, Arthur."

Mr Weasley smiled grimly at his wife, "I will be."

He watched his wife disapparate before grabbing his wand and hurrying out the door. Whoever had taken Harry was not going to be happy when Arthur Weasley found them.

  
  


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Severus Snape walked briskly down the hall, determined that this year he would be named the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. If he was going to spy for Dumbledore, not to mention spend days at a time in the Infimarary, then the least Dumbledore could do was give him his dream job. 

He'd just stopped in front of the Gargoyle blocking the entrance to Dumbledore's office when he heard it. Someone was running through the halls of Hogwarts and panting heavily from their exertion. He turned and barely avoided being run over by Mrs Weasley.

"Oh," she said, panting and leaning against the wall. "Professor Snape! Is Dumbledore in? It's urgent."

Just then the gargoyle jumped to the side, startling both Snape and Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley's grip on the wall slipped and she slid forward, falling onto Snape, who looked rather indignant to find a plump, middle-aged woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley," Dumbledore said with a grin as she struggled to right herself. "I didn't mean to startle you, but I thought I heard someone down here."

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh as Mrs Weasley finally finished righting herself and turned to Dumbledore.

"Harry's missing," she told him, the fear in her voice leaving no room for disbelief.

Dummbledore's grin left his heavily whiskered face, his blue eyes widening with sudden concern, "Are you sure? How did you find out?"

"My son, Ron, sent him a letter with Harry's owl, but Hedwig returned with the letter. She wasn't able to deliver the letter. So I went to his home and his aunt told me that the ministry came to take him. But neither I nor Arthur knew anything about that," she told him quickly, panic obviously beginning to rise in her. 

"Calm down, Mrs Weasley," Dumbledore told her. "Let us continue this in my office. Are you coming, Severus?"

Snape nodded, masking his concern for the foolish boy with a scowl. Dumbledore turned and began to climb the stairs to his office, Mrs Weasley at his heels and Snape followed them both.

Once in Dumbledore's office, the three sat down and a deafening silence ensued. Dumbledore looked thoughtful, while Mrs Weasley looked tearful and Snape looked rather irritated. The silence continued for a few moments, broken only by Fawkes the pheonix's sorrowful cooing. He finally left his perch and flew over to stand on Mrs Weasley's lap.

"When did you discover that he was missing," Dumbledore asked as she lifted a hand to pet the beautiful fire bird.

"Just this evening," she answered. "I was about to start dinner when Ron came running downstairs to tell me his letter had been returned."

"Do you know when he went missing or who the men were that took him," Dumbledore asked, stapling his hands together on the desk.

"His aunt didn't know who they were. They only said they were from the Ministry and had come to take Harry somewhere safe. I was a bit angry with her by then, so I forgot to ask when it happened," Mrs Weasley told him, her face flushing.

"You forgot to ask," Snape repeated incredulously. "How could you forget such a ridiculously simple question?"

"You weren't there," Mrs Weasley told him hotly. "That woman didn't even attempt to protect Harry! She didn't seem to care that her only nephew might be in danger!"

Snape snorted and opened his mouth to retort when Dumbledore held up his hand in a gesture for quiet. Obediently, Snape quieted and turned a furious glare on the headmaster.

"When it happened makes very little difference. Now we simply have to find him," Dumbledore said. "Mrs Weasley, does your husband know yet?"

Mrs Weasley nodded, "He's going to ask around the Ministry for anything, but do you really think he'll find something?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "I doubt it, but we do need to explore every option." He looked meaningfully at Snape as he said the last.

Snape sighed, but nodded his assent. This seemed to satisfy Dumbledore and he turned back to Mrs Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley, could you please return here tomorrow night with any more information you are able to find? About 9 o'clock," he requested.

Mrs Weasley nodded, "What are you going to do?"

"Find Harry Potter, Mrs Weasley," he answered soberly. "At all costs."

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Snape walked slowly through the chill dawn air back up to the castle, feeling as numb as he had ever felt. And it wasn't just the two times he had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse. He had seen something that night that would most likely haunt him for days to come. 

Dumbledore was waiting for him by the castle doors, his face set in a look of patient vigilance. He smiled grimly as he saw Snape stumbling toward him. Moving quickly, he closed the distance between them and pulled some of Snape's weight onto himself. He helped him inside and up to the Infirmary.

"What happened, Severus," he asked gently, worry for the younger man eating at him. Snape had never allowed himself to be brought to the Infirmary without a fight before. "How many times?"

"Only two," Snape told him gruffly, finally realizing where he was. "I found him, Albus."

Dumbledore blinked, surprised, but understanding who he meant immediately. He sighed and sat down next to his former pupil.

"He tortured me for being late and then he called out two of his other Death Eaters. They came immediately, dragging Harry between them," Snape told him. "He was beat up pretty badly, but he seemed to be conscious. The Dark Lord tortured him before commanding he be hidden away."

Snape looked Dumbledore in the eyes now, his normally intense gaze becoming three times as intensive as usual. Dumbledore looked back with calm, though worry-ridden eyes.

"Albus he plans to-to-" Snape looked back down, seemingly unable to continue.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore prompted after a moment. "What does he plan on doing?"

Snape watched as Madame Pomfrey walked sleepily into the room, jumping at the sight of the two men and gasping, "Oh my!"

Dumbledore ignored her and continued to regard Snape with a kind, but stern look, "What does he have planned for Harry, Severus?"

Snape took a deep breath and told him in a stony voice, "He plans to use him as a sacrifice in the Mijobor Ritual."

  
  


Next Chapter: Discussions of the Serious Kind


	3. Serious Discussions

::Stares at Lycoris incredulously, "How many flags you got girl?!" Turns back to her readers::

Wow! This chapter took me forever! But at least it's long!! 

I'm glad y'all'ses like my story so far, I just want to remind you that there will be NO SLASH. Although, I do seem to be treading a fine line of it...

Anyway...I've given my new character a name and now I'm challenging you, my readers, to tell me what it means. It's in a language besides English and that's all the clues I'm giving you. You can give me an answer by e-mailing me at AngelZash@yahoo.com or by reviewing. Everyone who gets it right will get a story written by me starring them and their favorite Harry Potter character! Only one guess per person (any after the first will not count towards the prize) and the contest is over after the next chapter has been posted. Also, I'll have new challenge for the next chapter.

::Quickly walks over to Lycoris and stuffs her into her bag of flags. Zips the bag and walks off innocently into the sunset::

ENJOY!

It was dark here. Dark, hot and dirty were the only words that could truly be used to describe the cell that Harry now rested in. He'd spent the better part of ten minutes trying vainly to determine what area housed the least amount of grime and filth when the Death Eaters had finally deposited him here after their meeting. 

Harry shifted with a groan, forgetting about the slimy surface of the stone beneath him and slipping to land with a hard THUD. Stars danced before Harry's eyes as he lay where he had landed. He didn't even have the energy to shift anymore, though the hard stone floor dug into his shoulder, hip and arm. He closed his eyes and tried not to concentrate on the pain.

"You know," said a soft voice as gentle hands lifted Harry back up into a sitting position, "dreaming is not going to make you feel any better."

Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the man that now cradled him in his arms. The man, and it was definitely a man that held Harry, was cloaked in shadow. His face was indistinguishable in the almost non-existent light of the dungeons and his body was clothed in the heavy, black robes of the Wizarding world. Harry knew that this man must be a Death Eater because he'd been visited by him before and the others did as he told them, but his touch was gentle and his voice soothing. He was, even now, carefully tending to Harry's wounds and running a wet cloth over him to clean his wounds as though he were a patron saint of healing, rather than a cold, ruthless killer.

"My," the man exclaimed, sounding slightly amused. "But I do believe that they went a little overboard, wouldn't you say, Little Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was too dry and sore to allow any sound past it. Instead Harry nodded, hoping that this man might have some mercy on him at last.

The man chuckled and continued tend to Harry's wounds. Suddenly he let out a laugh and Harry's eyes, which had only been half open until now, flew open wide. The man pulled out Harry's wand from where he had managed to keep it hidden in his oversized clothes and wagged it at Harry's nose with a grin that gleamed in the dim light.

"So, you thought to try an escape, did you, my little one," the man asked rhetorically with a chuckle.

Harry closed his eyes, tears beginning to drip slowly from them carrying the last of his hope.

"Don't worry, Little Harry," the man said, pocketing the wand and laying Harry down on a blanket that he must've spread before alerting Harry to his presence. "You've still a role to play. Despair is only for those with nothing left to look forward to. If you believe nothing else in what is left of your life, believe that."

He wanted to glare at the man whose footsteps he could hear making their way from the dungeon, but Harry hadn't the energy anymore. Harry only had enough energy left to let sweet oblivion overtake him for a short time.

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It was evening again and Snape was staggering through the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey had forbidden him to leave his bed, in a manner not even Dumbledore would argue with, but he was determined that he would be there when Dumbledore told the others of the Potter boy's fate. Besides, Snape was certain he'd be the one elected to provide the rescue and wanted to at least be in the room to hear to his sentence.

Snape stopped to rest on the wall across from the forbidding gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He knew it was only his imagination that the gargoyle glared at him sympathetically, but he glared back at it nevertheless. The gargoyles' stare never wavered, but Snape thought its look had turned rather amused, something like Dumbledore's usually did whenever Snape tried to intimidate HIM. Snape looked away finally with a sigh, feeling inexorably weary.

"Professor Snape," called a familiar voice. Snape looked back up and down the corridor to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurrying towards him. "Did you find him? Has there been any word what happened to Harry yet?"

Snape nodded his head and immediately regretted his reply as Mrs Weasley launched herself at him, grabbing his hands and staring up at him with an expression of such hope that Snape almost wanted to crawl back to Madame Pomfrey. ...ALMOST.

"How is he," Mrs Weasley asked quickly. "Is he okay? Where is he? Is he here? Where did you find him?"

Snape stared stoically at Mrs Weasley's bright eyes, unsure of how to answer. He looked up into Mr Weasley's eyes and Mr Weasley, seeming to somehow understand his reluctance to speak, nodded before reaching to pull his wife away from the flustered Professor.

"Dear," he said, tugging hard on the smaller woman to break her grip, "perhaps we would be better to wait for Dumbledore?"

"Arthur," she said, granting him a look he couldn't help but grimace at, "aren't you worried about poor Harry? I just want to know if he's alright."

"You will find out soon enough, Mrs Weasley," a tired voice said from behind Snape.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked up from their argument while Snape spun quickly around. Too quickly, as his head suddenly felt disconnected from his body and his sight blurred so badly that he saw little more than a myriad of dark colors. Snape fell forward into a pair of strong arms and clung to them. By the smell and feel of the beard he now leaned against, he knew it could only be Albus Dumbledore who held him.

"Are you alright, Severus," Dumbledore asked as Snape struggled to raise his eyes to Dumbledore's own concerned blue orbs.

"Fine, Albus," Snape said irritably. He straightened and smoothed out his robes and hair as Mr and Mrs Weasley watched amazed.

"Harry's..." Mrs Weasley said slowly, as though terrified that if she should say it, it would indeed be true, "Harry's not...not...alright...is he?"

Dumbledore looked sadly at the pale woman who had all but adopted The-Boy-Who-Lived and shook his head, "I'm afraid Harry is in a great deal of danger, Mrs Weasley." 

Mr Weasley reached out for his wife and she leaned back into him with a soft moan, "Harry..."

"What can we do for him," Mr Weasley asked softly. 

"We will be discussing that tonight," Dumbledore told him before turning to Snape. "That is, if you are well enough to climb to my office, Severus?"

Snape nodded, thin lipped and rigid. A small smile quirked at Dumbledore's lips as he eyed his Potions Master. 

"May I assume that Poppy does not know you're here, Severus?"

Dumbledore chuckled as Snape glared darkly at him. He turned to the gargoyle, which leapt aside for him and climbed up the stairs, Mr and Mrs Weasley following on his heels. Snape followed a bit more slowly as his body ached under the strain of moving. 

They entered Dumbledore's office to find it already occupied by Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, who immediately sprang at Dumbledore, a frantic expression on his face.

"Harry! What-"

"Please be seated, Sirius," Dumbledore told the wild-eyed wizard. 

Sirius sat as Dumbledore walked over the chair behind his desk. Mr and Mrs Weasley found their seats on a sofa and Mrs Weasley motioned an exhausted Snape to sit beside her when he had finally appeared.

"What is he doing here," Sirius asked, succeeding at keeping most of the snarl from his voice.

"Sirius," Dumbledore replied softly as Snape glared viciously at the haggard man, "Harry has been kidnapped." Lupin gasped, jerking sharply while Sirius seemingly turned to stone. "Severus has discovered where he has been taken."

"Where is he," both Sirius and Mrs Weasley asked in voices dripping with fear and hope.

"Voldemort has him," Snape said softly, purposely fixing a glare on Sirius.

"How..." Sirius breathed while Dumbledore and Snape allowed the rest of the room to absorb the information they'd just received.

"His family," Mrs Weasley told him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Two men came, saying they were from the ministry and they just let them have him. They didn't even TRY to protect him!" 

Mr Weasley hugged his wife to him as she broke out into tears. The others could tell that this was not the first the time she had broken down like this.

"Is he alright, Severus," Lupin asked quietly as he attempted to coax Sirius in to opening his fists. Blood was currently dripping from them as he squeezed them so tightly his short nails bit into skin. Lupin found himself momentarily afraid that Sirius might break his hand if he did not stop soon.

"He'd been beaten," Snape said emotionlessly, "but he was alive."

A loud BANG sounded throughout the small room as Sirius stood suddenly and paced over to stand in front of Snape, "Where is he?"

"No where you can get to him, Black," Snape spat back at the angry man. He remained seated where he was, but his black eyes glittered menacingly at his old enemy.

"WHERE-" Sirius started to roar, but was interrupted by Dumbledore soft, though somehow louder, voice.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said somberly, "Please be seated. We are going to find a way to help Harry, but your storming the Death Eater camp won't do anything for him."

Sirius stood shivering with his rage, torn between listening to Dumbledore and rushing off to save his godson. Mrs Weasley finally took pity on the poor man and wiped her tears away with one hand while taking his arm with the other. Sirius jumped, looking over at her with wide eyes. Mrs Weasley stood and gently began trying to nudge Sirius back over to his seat.

"Sit down, Sirius dear," she told him. "You won't do Harry any good if you're sharing his prison."

Sirius stood staring at the small, plump woman for a moment. He didn't seem capable of moving and, for a moment, Lupin thought he might just shake the woman off. Sirius didn't, however. Instead he turned and moved slowly, as though in a great deal of pain, back to his chair, sitting in it as Mrs Weasley straightened it for him. Mrs Weasley ruffed his hair before returning to her own seat, a secret smile that only mothers can ever wear upon her lips. Sirius watched her retreat with the look that all chastised sons have for their mothers, one of still anger and fear of any on-coming wrathful punishment.

Dumbledore chuckled, "Ahh...the touch of a mother... It can still the hearts of even the wildest creatures."

Lupin dumbstruck stared at the now sullen and slightly embarrassed Sirius while Mr Weasley nodded sagely, having experienced Dumbledore's words to be true many times over. The rest of the room, however, stared at him as though they had finally found their proof that he had gone senile.

"Severus, tell us," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "What do they plan to do with Harry?"

Snape scowled as Sirius sat up, once again riveted to the conversation. Snape locked his gaze on Dumbledore's and sat up a little straighter. He did not want to see anyone else's faces when he said what he was about to say. For some reason it bothered him to have to repeat Harry's intended fate in front of Mrs Weasley and McGonagall.

"They plan," he said slowly, "to sacrifice him in the Mijobor Ritual."

McGonagall gasped, her face going completely white. Lupin's did the same, though a tinge of green was seen to appear at the edges of his jaw.

"What is the Mijobor Ritual," Sirius asked, noting their reactions and terrified of the answer. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he knew he needed to. 

"The Mijobor Ritual," Dumbledore explained slowly, "is a very complicated spell that enables a person to inherit another's power. It binds two wizards to each other so that they share their magic and the first to die leaves his or her power to the other."

Silence reigned once more as the group gathered in Dumbledore's office processed what they had just been told. Fawkes cooed on his perch, seeming to not know who to comfort, while McGongall looked as though she wanted nothing more than to leave the room and it's bad tidings behind her.

"He plans to..." Sirius said finally, sounding shell-shocked, "...steal Harry's magic..."

Dumbledore nodded sadly and Fawkes let out another long, sorrowful coo. 

"How..." Mr Weasley breathed, his face snow white. "How can they steal someone's magic?"

"It is a long and very complex process," Dumbledore began. "It does not have to involve a lot of pain, but it does require that the participants spend a great deal of time in each other's presence. In this way they will share each other's aura. And with the aura, their power."

Dumbledore finally sat in his chair and leaned heavily on his forward, "A potion will have to be prepared soon. It will be part of the first step of the official ritual. The first ceremony will be something like a wedding; this is part of the reason why the ritual was once known as the Lover's Pact. It was deemed only fit for married couples to perform. Each participant will agree to share the other's power until their death, then they will drink the potion. Once the potion is drunk, neither participant will be found far from the other until a month has passed. Once a month has gone by, both participants shall return to drink a second goblet of the potion, this time with a drop of each participant's blood mixed in. When the potion has been drunk the second time, both will share the other's power, doubling their individual powers."

Silence once more reigned as Dumbledore finished his explanation. For a brief moment, Dumbledore allowed himself the luxury of wondering if perhaps Voldemort had somehow managed to sneak in and turn them all to stone. So it was with a start that he realized Sirius was speaking.

"...who will make the potion," Sirius asked. "Can we stop it from being made?"

"I will make the potion," Snape said stonily, his face tight, but otherwise showing no sign of emotion.

"Why you-" Sirius snarled at him, anger immediately flaring in his eyes.

"What do you expect me to do, Black," Snape snarled, watching Sirius disgustedly. "Would you prefer I poisoned them both? Or perhaps you want me to lose us any chance of rescuing the boy by giving them the wrong potion?"

"But You-Know-Who's power will be doubled," Mrs Weasley exclaimed in fear.

"It can not be helped," Professor McGongall said resignedly. "If we do not play along for the moment, Harry will be dead and You-Know-Who's power will then become tripled."

"But-" Sirius protested, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"Sirius," Dumbledore told him gently. "Harry's power will also be doubled. We will be in no worse position for taking this action. If nothing else, this Ritual will keep Harry alive for at least another month."

Sirius set his jaw and looked angrily down at his lap. Mrs Weasley watched him carefully before bringing her eyes back up to Dumbledore and leaning against her husband, who wrapped an arm around her.

"How will we get him back, Dumbledore," she asked the old wizard, resignation clear in her eyes and voice. 

"First we have to discover where he will be kept," Dumbledore replied. "I will need your help, Sirius."

Sirius looked up in surprise at his old mentor. He stared for a moment, unsure if he'd truly heard what he thought he had, before curtly nodding his assent.

"You will discover where Harry is being hidden by accompanying Severus to his Death Eater meetings," Sirius scowled over at an equally upset Snape as Dumbledore continued. "While he is with the others, you may wander off to sniff around for Harry. Once you find him, however," Dumbledore stared sternly at the hotheaded younger wizard, "do not try to rescue him. Simply return with Severus. We will go with a group to rescue him togther."

Sirius's scowl grew deeper, but he did not object.

"Dumbledore," McGonagall said anxiously, "shouldn't I be the more...logical choice?"

"No, Minerva," Dumbledore told her shaking his head. "You are, by far, too recognizable. I am certain Sirius can stand to get along with Severus long enough to rescue his godson. I will ask you, however, to change Sirius' fur another color to better hide his identity from Wormtail. Perhaps a Chocolate Lab would be nice."

Sirius looked scandalized at Dumbledore while Lupin and Snape chuckled. Sirius glared over at them as well.

"Some friend you are," he hissed at Lupin. 

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Lupin told him, struggling to hold in his mirth.

"At least you will no longer have to worry about the Dementors, Black," Snape told him with a greasy smile.

"Shut up," Sirius snapped, scowling deeply.

"Please begin preparing the potion, Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Minerva, Remus, if you would prepare Sirius for his job?"

Lupin and McGonagall nodded before Lupin began dragging a still scowling Sirius from the room, McGonagall following close behind. 

"What about us, Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley asked.

"I want you to spread the word to the others," Dumbledore told the Weasley's. "Tell them to be ready for a fight. We don't know when it will be coming, but it will be soon. We must also keep this quiet from the rest of the Wizarding World, but if you can find out anything more, or if anyone else can, I want you to report it directly to me immediately."

Mrs Weasley nodded and she stood and left, her husband's arm wrapped around her the entire time.

"I wonder if he'll be alright," Dumbledore said softly as Fawkes flew over and landed on his shoulder, cooing a high phoenix song.

***********************************************************************

It was night out. Somehow Harry knew this to be true, though he wasn't sure how. He curled up on the dirty, grimy floor and tried not to feel the pain and heat. He wondered absently how long he had been here, but couldn't remember. He'd lost all sense of time since he'd been here, but he found he no longer truly cared. He just wanted to know how much longer he had to suffer. 

His cell door opened and the man who had been visiting him since he was first kidnapped walked in. The man walked over to him and knelt.

"Feel any better, Harry," he asked in his friendly manner.

Harry answered him with a cold glare that by all rights should have created steam in the steamy room. 

"Now, now," the man told him. "I'm here to help. You should know that by now, my little Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed quietly in exasperation, "If you want to help me, let me go."

The man laughed, before pulling Harry gently, if sternly, to his feet, "You'll feel better when you're cleaned up."

Harry snorted, but allowed himself to be pulled out of the cell and upstairs to a round room with a large bed and equally large wardrobe. There were two doors into the room: the one Harry had just come in through and one that seemed to lead to the bathroom. Harry's captor took a moment to lock the first door before pulling Harry into the bathroom.

The bathroom was the second largest Harry had only seen, the prefect's bathroom being the largest. A large tub sat full of bubbly water and surrounded by a counter that ran all along the circular wall, breaking only in one place where the mirror that ran above it dropped down to become full-length. Various personal hygiene tools and potions sat on the counter, giving the place the look of some expensive spa.

"WHAT," Harry squeaked, surprised as the man began forcibly stripping him. "What are you doing!"

"You need a bath, Harry dear," the man told him, before pulling off the last of Harry's clothing. 

He took a step back and eyed Harry's skinny figure speculatively, "My...But you are skinny, aren't you? Didn't that family of yours feed you?"

"More than you have," Harry growled, attempting to hide himself and not blush. He was not succeeding too well and the man grinned at his embarrassment.

"Well, we can fix that after your bath," he answered. With that the man stepped forward, picked up Harry and plopped him gently in the bath tub. 

The man stripped off his robes before kneeling beside the tub in only his boxers. He picked up a sponge and began to gently clean Harry's wounds. Harry stared at him dumbfounded; he'd never before been bathed in his life. At least not that he could remember.

"Well," the man said, "This will go much faster if you wash your hair while I clean you."

Harry set to work on his hair, jumping a little every now and again as the man scrubbed some more sensitive areas of his abused body. Soon almost all of Harry had been cleaned and the man straightened back up. 

"You finish while I go get your clothes," he said leaving the room. 

Harry watched him go and slid down to finish the scrubbing and luxuriate in the bath water, feeling ready to fall asleep right there. Unfortunately, the man returned quickly and pulled Harry from the bath water and into a large fluffy towel that smelled somewhat overpoweringly of green tea. He patted Harry down as Harry tried to remain erect under the influence of the powerful smell. 

Finally, the man brushed Harry's down quickly and then pulled the towel from him. He replaced it with an eggshell white robe which shimmered and glided over Harry's skin as it slid over and down his body to his feet. 

Now the man led him to the bed and tucked him gently into it. Harry watched him with curious eyes even after the man had taken his glasses from him.

"Who are you," Harry asked, sleep already beginning to claim him.

The man grinned a fuzzy grin, "Call me Himitsu."

It was the last thing Harry heard before sleep claimed him once more. 

  
  


Next Chapter: Dark Wedding


	4. Dark Wedding

::Rides in atop of a baby dragon::

Hi all!! Sorry this is so late!! The last bit was really giving me fits!! I also decided to try changing my format a little. We'll see if I like centering better or not. 

Any way, I'm hurt! No one tried to guess what Himitsu meant. Only one HALF-HEARTED guess! ::sobs from her seat on the dragon, almost falling into the clutches of the evil Lycoris:: Well, I'll give you another chance. If you can tell me what either Himitsu or the newest name, Shinpi, means I will write you a story starring you and your fave Harry Potter character(s). Here's a hint: they're both Japanese. Another hint: any hard core fan of the "Slayers" or at least "Slayers Next" will be able to tell what Himitsu means.

Now please enjoy! I know this is a VERY dark chapter (it is NOT a real wedding. There will be NO slash in this fic though I may prance close to it, especially with Shinpi.) So I tried to lighten it with a little bit of humor, not much in the second half, but hopefully the first half will be funny. Hopefully...

Anyways, ENJOY!!

::continues hiding on top of Milly while watching for Lycoris and her evil, evil flags::

  
  


Harry woke slowly the next morning. He snuggled deep into the soft, warm mattress, pulling the downy quilt up to tuck under his chin. He smiled, thinking how wonderful his Hogwarts bed was.

But, wait, this wasn't his bed. This bed was too large to be his bed!

Harry's eyes snapped open and his face emptied of all slumbering contentedness. His blurry eyes were met with fluffy silver embroidered green pillows and silk bed sheets. He gasped and sat up quickly, falling off the side of the bed in his haste. Stars danced in front of Harry's eyes as he lay tangled in the bed sheets on the floor. 

"That was smooth..." Harry commented drily to himself after a moment of laying uncomfortably on the ground.

"Indeed," chuckled a voice Harry recognized as Himitsu's from the vicinity of his feet. "Very graceful, young one."

Harry squinted toward Himitsu's voice and just barely made out a dark blurry form standing at the foot of the large bed. The figure seemed to shiver slightly, suggesting to Harry that it was struggling to contain laughter rather than just the giggles it was emitting. Harry sighed and decided it wasn't worth the trouble to protest against. After, he was as much a prisoner free of these villainous sheets as he was within the grasping tangle. Now, if only he could free himself from one prison, he might be able to break free of another, much more dangerous, prison. 

Of course, Harry reflected after a few moments' struggle, Voldemort might have charmed the sheets to slowly do him in instead.

"Need some help," Himitsu asked in a sing-song voice as he attempted to extricate Harry from the rabid beast that had become his sheets.

"No," Harry replied. "I enjoy spending my summers fighting off carnivorous silk sheets."

"And he says it with a straight face," Himitsu exclaimed with a laugh. He gave a tug and Harry was finally free from his bonds.

Harry immediately shot up and away from the mess of silk as though afraid it might attack him at any moment. Himitsu laughed loudly as he watched.

"You are very amusing, little one," he told Harry. "You act as though they were alive and could truly strangle you."

"From my experience," replied Harry warily, "they just might."

Himitsu laughed as he straightened and walked over to stand by Harry, dropping one hand down to dangle Harry's glasses just in front of his nose, "Your glasses, my young wiseman."

Harry scowled a scowl worthy of Snape as he moodily snatched the glasses from Himitsu.

"Temper, temper," tutted Himitsu as he began walking back to the door. "Your breakfast awaits you on the vanity."

Harry watched him alarmed, suddenly remembering that Himitsu'd never told him just what was going to become of him, a subject Harry found to be of the utmost importance. 

"Wait," Harry called. "What's going to happen to me? What's Voldemort want to do to me now?"

If Himitsu heard the boy, he certainly didn't show it. He simply continued out the door, his chuckle echoing behind him as he left Harry alone with his breakfast. Not to mention the evil sheets that Harry imagined were watching him hungrily from their place on the floor even now...

***********************************************************************

It had taken him a week, but Snape was finally ready to present his one-time master with the potion. He walked briskly through the warm evening air, a large chocolate lab trotting along beside him. 

Sirius was none too happy with his role in the whole affair and was even less happy with the plan to free his godson. As far as he was concerned, Snape should simply tell them where Yo-Know-Who had stashed Harry and let Dumbledore assemble every witch and wizard loyal to him to march in and rescue the boy. He knew it was a reckless and fool-hardy plan, but he couldn't help but wish for more action and less planning. 

Snape stopped just outside the gates and turned to glare down at his furry companion. His black eyes seemed to glint maliciously as the met the dog's equally dark orbs and a battle of wills erupted. The dog sat back on its messy brown haunches as it continued to stare down the man that loomed above it.

"If you do anything," Snape hissed to the dog, "ANYTHING, to give us away, I will personally see to it that the Death Eaters are not bereft of their dinner of soul for even one day longer."

The dog growled and rolled its eyes, looking down toward the town as though to say, "Well? Come on! We haven't all day."

Snape growled in return before roughly grabbing the dog by the scruff of its neck and apparating away. He reappeared in a large, overgrown yard behind a tall, ominous-looking mansion that appeared to have had seen better days. The dog at his side whined and Snape smoothed back its fur in a gesture as soothing to him as it was to the dog.

With a sigh and a shake, Snape set off for the mansion's back door with a purposeful stride, the dog at his side. As he reached the back door, he stretched out a pale hand to throw open the door, but his long, nimble fingers never touched the metal. The door creaked open to reveal a tall, Asian-looking man.

"Shinpi," Snape growled, his scowl deepening at the grinning younger man.

"Severus," the dark-haired man said brightly, tying his shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail. "Old boy! How have you been? Finish the potion already?"

Snape's scowl deepened, "I am not old, Shinpi. Nor am I a boy. Where is the Dark Lord?"

Snape brushed past the man who seemed undisturbed by his cohort's lack of warmth. The dog trotted along at Snape's heels, pausing briefly to sniff at Shinpi's robe hems. Shinpi grinned at Snape's back as he headed through the kitchen and into the hallway beyond, the dog never far from his side. 

  
  


"He's expecting you in the main room," Shinpi called after Snape. He paused briefly before adding with a smirk, "Nice dog!"

Snape growled and hissed at the dog in a low whisper, "Stay with me for now."

The dog took a moment to glare at the tall, forbidding man, but only a moment before it went back to trotting, seemingly content, at his side. Only a careful observer would be able to note the careful sniffing the dog was doing as it walked, as though searching for a hidden smell. It paused for a moment at some stairs, as though it had found something, but continued on as Snape knocked and entered a pair of ornately decorated doors.

Inside, their eyes met with darkness. Unadulterated shadow and midnight coloring combined with an air of danger to create an air of choking fear that Snape knew wasn't simply from his knowledge of the evil that lurked within the dark depths of the room. Snape stepped far enough into the room to allow the door to close silently behind him and the do at his heels before stopping to allow his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Dogs might have good night vision, but not so Potions Masters, whatever the popular belief might be. 

"Have you completed the potion, Snape," asked a low, cold voice that sent shivers down both man and dog's spines. 

"Yes, Master," Snape replied meekly, his eyes darting around in a vain attempt to see in the darkness. 

A sudden light flared brightly at the other end of the room, causing both man and beast to flinch and an involuntary yelp to be heard from the dog. When their eyes had cleared, the companions looked up to see Lord Voldemort slowly approaching, Wormtail cowering at his heels. The dog growled menacingly at Wormtail, earning a sound smack on its nose from its human. 

Voldemort laughed, causing everyone in the room to flinch. His cold red eyes looked down on the dog at Snape's side with amusement, his thin mouth curved up in a wicked smile.

"New dog, Snape," he asked, though his tone made it well known he didn't much care what Snape's answer was.

"Yes, Master," Snape replied dutifully, his eyes downcast in a display of respect. "I'm sorry, he is not very well behaved as of yet."

The Dark Lord waved off his underling, "He has impeccable tastes." Wormtail flinched at his master's words, but remained where he was, daring only to glare at the chastised dog. 

"What is its name," Voldemort asked, eyeing the dog carefully. The dog shrunk back as much as it could, only its pride seemingly keeping it from bolting behind Snape's characteristically billowing robes. 

Snape looked surprised, but answered quickly, "Lucifer, my Lord."

The dog looked quickly at Snape while Lord Voldemort laughed his high, mirthless laugh. 

"What a perfect name for a Death Eater's dog," he said before sobering. "Where is the potion?"

Snape reached into his robes and pulled out two medium-sized bottles for Voldemort's inspection. Voldemort reached out and wrapped his long pale fingers about them. He pulled his arms back to him and bounced the bottles in his hands as though weighing them for accuracy.

"Good," he said finally. "Now we can perform the ceremony. Wormtail, fetch the boy!"

Snape's eyes widened as the dog at his side stilled, mirroring the movements of Wormtail, still cowering at his Master's hem.

"N-now, m-m-my Master," he squeaked in surprise. 

Voldemort turned lazily before snapping a hand out with his wand and cursing the balding man. Wormtail crumpled, squealing in agony. The dog seemed to grin, enjoying the pain of one so wretched while Snape's feelings on the matter were carefully hidden behind a mask of indifference. 

"Be quick about it, you fool," Voldemort demanded, lifting his curse finally. "I will not grant any time for something to go wrong." 

Wormtail nodded and changed quickly into his rat form before scurrying madly away.

"Snape," Voldemort commanded, turning his red glare upon the silent Death Eater.

Snape nodded and silently stepped forward, lifting his sleeve to present his burning Dark Mark for inspection. Voldemort grinned as he took the proffered arm and pressed one long finger to it. The Mark seemed to glow for a moment as Snape hissed in pain, then the Dark Lord released him and stepped back. Snape did as well, tightly clutching his arm to his stomach.

The Dark Lord turned and walked back to the opposite end of the room, sitting himself regally in a tall, red-cushioned chair. Snape stood silently as his Lord's seemingly amused red stare was turned on him, which Snape found by far more disturbing then anything else the unholy creature could have done. Things which amused the Dark Lord very often meant pain and suffering for some poor soul and Severus doubted he would escape this meeting without having been cursed at least once, if he was lucky.

Lucifer whined at his side and Snape instinctively reached down to plunge his hand into the dog's thick, dark brown fur. The dog crept closer to him, as though somehow knowing that the Dark Lord wanted to harm the man at his side.

The doors to the large room burst open, illuminating it enough so that its occupants could see every inch of the large dining hall they waited in. Death Eaters began pouring in, their faces masked and their bodies cloaked in dark robes that spoke clearly of their affiliation. Snape quickly pulled up his own hood and waited for the others to gather around him in stony silence. Lucifer sat beside him, growling at any Death Eater that ventured too close and refusing to be moved.

"Your dog seems quite content to remain at your side," commented a highly amused voice from behind Snape. 

Snape stiffened, but did not turn, choosing instead to say coldly, "Would you prefer this flea bag were beside you, Shinpi?"

Shinpi giggled, which was the only warning Snape had before the man had jumped forward and wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head up next to Snape's, cheek to cheek. Snape's eyes opened wide in stunned surprise and Lucifer stopped panting as he watched the two men's display beside him.

"Now, now," Shinpi scolded Snape, laughter clearly evident in his voice. "I know how very much you adore dogs! I could never take my favorite person's precious!"

Snape growled menacingly, his teeth bared and gleaming in the dim light from the lamp that sat beside the Dark Lord. He reached up and put his agile long fingers to good work untangling the octopus that was Shinpi from his body.

"Do remind me, Shinpi," he said coldly as he struggled. "You are how old? Surely you are old enough to act with the decorum due a Death Eater."

Shinpi chuckled as he released Snape, "You know you love me, Sev-er-us..."

Snape shuddered and pushed the still chuckling Shinpi aside. He heard a panting beside him and glanced down at Lucifer to see the dog laughing at his expense, eyes filled with mirth and a grin resting comfortingly on his doggy face.

"Shut up," Snape snapped before turning back to glower silently, though deliberately not in Voldemort's direction, as he waited for Wormtail's return. 

The dog snuffled in reply and sat regally beside Snape as it too awaited the coming events.

They did not have to wait long before Wormtail returned, dragging Harry along beside him. Snape stiffened imperceptibly at the sight of the boy as the dog let out a low growl. Neither liked what they saw.

Wormtail entered the room through a bright doorway of light, the squeak of the hinges the only indication that he was using a door and not magic, with Harry struggling very slightly at his side. The boy's movements seemed slow and sluggish, as though he were moving through mud, making it very clear to Severus and Lucifer that he was drugged. Harry was dressed in a long snow white robe traditional for the ceremony that was about to take place, though normally both participants wore identical robes. His hair was combed and slicked back into a style that was both becoming and enhancing of his wide, fear-filled green eyes. His glasses rested slightly askew on his face, obviously knocked that way during his recent struggles for freedom. 

Snape bowed his head, a feeling of failure flushing him with shame, as Harry past, but he needn't have hidden. Harry was too preoccupied with his predicament to notice anyone but Wormtail and his final destination: Lord Voldemort.

"And how is my bride-to-be," Voldemort laughed maliciously.

Snape and Lucifer both winced as Harry whimpered and redoubled his struggling. 

"Now, now," Voldemort told him, reaching out and roughly tugging Harry to his side by Harry's arm. "You'll make me believe you don't want to be bound to me... To share your power with me - forever. Or for a month, at least."

A sparkle lit for a moment on Harry's cheek, alerting Snape to the fact that the boy was crying. Anger tightened his chest and he clenched his fists to stop himself from doing anything to give away his status as a spy. He glanced down at Lucifer and was glad to see the dog's angry gaze turned on the Dark Lord. Snape did not want to have to fight a large, enraged dog from murdering the his former master, especially since he would feel fully sympathetic. An ironic, one-time event, Snape told himself as he turned back to the ritual that had just begun. 

Wormtail stood before Harry and Voldemort, shaking as he watched the evil creature man-handle the young, drugged boy into place. He waited until the snake-like being had finished and was glaring at him expectantly before lifting a heavy, thickly bound book seemingly out of no where and reading. The text was in Ancient English, obviously an ancient Druid spell that hadn't been translated since the time of Merlin himself, and it's incantation sent chills down Snape's spine. 

Voldemort stood holding a finally still Harry to his side and repeated a few of the phrases in a chillingly cold voice that none of the witnessing Death Eaters could suppress. Even Lucifer bowed his head and whimpered at it and Snape had thought the dog long since lost to the red haze of hate and anger. The evil creature turned to Harry and smiled maliciously at boy during his last few phrases, dredging up yet again the protective urges Snape had felt for the foolish brat since he had first laid eyes on him four years before. 

Soon Wormtail paused in his reading and watched Harry expectantly. Snape closed his yes and hoped that he might go conveniently deaf. He grabbed Lucifer's collar in the event that God actually granted his wish. 

"Say yes, Harry," Voldemort cajoled, supreme arrogance flooding his voice.

God was not going to be merciful today.

'Then again,' Snape thought to himself as he felt Lucifer strain against his grip on the dog's collar, 'why should He be? I deserve to be punished...' A warm shiver ran up Snape's back which he ignored and opened his eyes to continue watching the proceedings.

Harry shook his head in denial, though it actually swung rather drunkenly, as though he were a three year old refusing to go to bed. 

Voldemort chuckled and pointed his wand at Harry with a free hand, "Imperio! Say...yes, Harry. Yes and it will all end."

To Snape's everlasting horror, Harry said, "Yes." It was very weak and reluctant, but it satisfied the Dark Lord and he turned back to regard an increasingly nervous Wormtail. Snape felt the fight drain out of Lucifer at the simple word and he sighed in relief, flexing his hand slightly to restart the blood.

  
  


A few more words in Ancient English and then Wormtail reached for one of the bottles sitting on a table beside him. He quietly handed it to Voldemort with a hand that shook slightly and released the bottle as soon as the Dark Lord's long pale fingers had wrapped around it. Voldemort popped the cork in a swift movement and took a quick swig before putting the bottle to Harry's lips.

"Drink, my young sacrifice," he told the boy happily. "Drink and grant me your power and the lives of all who oppose the GREAT LORD VOLDEMORT."

Harry flinched back and gasped, which Voldemort quickly took advantage of by pouring the rest of the bottle's contents down his throat. Harry gasped and sputtered, swallowing the foul liquid in his need to breathe. Voldemort ignored him and turned back to Wormtail.

A few more words and both Harry and Voldemort began to glow, Voldemort a dark brownish grey and Harry a deep firey emerald. The glows grew brighter and brighter until they intersected and merged before fading into the individuals they now connected.

"It is done," Lord Voldemort declared to his people, who obligingly cheered. Harry slumped to the ground unnoticed by anyone besides Wormtail, who hurried to catch him before he could injure himself, Snape and Lucifer. Snape hoped his efforts to control the once again straining dog would go unnoticed by anyone, but God was not yet in a merciful mood.

"Your dog does not appreciate my success, Snape," Voldemort said to him as he turned his brilliant red gaze on the pair. Lucifer stilled finally and all the Death Eaters near-by backed away to watch at a safe distance.

"Lucifer," Snape began, fear creeping into his stomach to curl in wait, "He wanted to be with his Lord for his latest triumph."

The Dark Lord's serpentine face stretched into a horrible, secretive grin and Snape knew without a doubt that he was dead.

"Is that so, Snape," the Dark Lord asked, his red eyes glinted maliciously. "Are you sure he's not attempting to rush to his godson's rescue?"

Stunned, Snape stared wide-eyed at the approaching figure as though it was in actuality death that stood before - which it might well have been, he conceded. Lucifer whimpered and crept closer to Snape, as though he might find shelter in the man's billowy black robes.

In a flash, Voldemort had raised his wand and cast a spell which left Sirius Black crouching in place of Lucifer. Snape met Sirius's stunned eyes and silently cursed as Wormtail squeaked from where he held Harry. 

"Come to rescue your godson, Sirius Black," Voldemort asked with mock sweetness. He laughed jovially, "You are too late! Harry Potter and all his power belongs to me!"

"You..." Sirius croaked with his infamous Gryffindor courage, "You will never win! Dumbledore-"

"Can not stop me," Voldemort snapped. "Even if he could stop the transfer of power, He'd only kill us both."

Sirius's mouth snapped shut as he realized the full implications of Harry's predicament. The fear in Snape's stomach had now uncurled and was now attacking his heart with a vengeance that did not only have to do with the young boy he had been sent to rescue.

Lord Voldemort grinned, "He didn't tell that there was no way to halt the transfer of power after begun, did he? He neglected to inform you that even the death of one of the participants would set off a magical explosion of enormous proportions in the other?"

Sirius hid his stunned faced in violently shaking hands as the Dark Lord's grin turned mockingly sympathetic, "Poor man. Taken advantage of by one of the only men he thought he could trust..."

  
  


Voldemort clucked as he watched Sirius's shoulders shake, then he turned his attention back to Snape.

"You disappoint me, Snape," he told the Potions Master gravely. Didn't you know you could never win back my trust? You had mader it too obvious where your loyalties lay."

Snape stared defiantly at Voldemort, bracing himself for the coming curses.

Voldemort chuckled, "You expect to be cursed. And you will be. But it will be a curse like no other."

A chill ran up Snape's spine and Sirius looked up to stare tearfully at the Dark Lord in horror.

"I am going to let you live a long, healthy life," Voldemort told them. "Surprised? Don't be. I never said it would be happy. You will live each day with the knowledge of your failure. You'll see my reign, my triumph and the boy's death and never be able to stop it. You'll live with the guilt that with one failure, you damned the entire world, and you will have to continue living in that world. In that world, but never a part of it. You'll be worse than ghosts, for even ghosts can interact with the world of the living. You will be in our world, but unable to interact. You will be forced to face your failures for the rest of your lives."

Snape glared stoically at Voldemort as Sirius's eyes popped open and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

Voldemort pointed his wand at the odd pair and grinned his most malicious, evil grin yet, "Enjoy your punishment, my dear fools. And remember, there is no escape."

With that Voldemort bellowed out a spell that pulled power from both his and Harry's resources. A bright purple light burst from his wand and enveloped both man, blinding all who saw it hit. When the Death Eaters' eyes had cleared, there was no sign of Severus Snape or sirius Black. The only evidence that they had ever been there, in fact, was the high-pitched laughter that rang from the Dark Lord's throat, eliciting a small moan from the yet unconscious Harry.

  
  


Next Chapter: Revisions- Fun, Fun, Fun!


	5. Heart's Sway

"Things are going to plan," he said rhetorically to his lackey cloaked in darkness. 

The lackey nodded firmly, wondering when he would be able to return to his duties. The Dark Lord did not take kindly to his minions skivving off work. 

"You have been keeping an eye on Potter, correct," the man asked his lackey dangerously.

"Yes, my lord," the lackey told him quietly, barely loud enough to be heard. It satisfied the man, though and he walked over to his office chair.

"Keep watch over Snape and Black as well," the man said, surprising his lackey. "I don't care how you do it. They may yet be useful to me..."

The lackey gritted his teeth, knowing he was trapped and hating it. How was it always him that got stuck with these horrible jobs?

Nevertheless, he nodded and replied respectfully, "Yes, my lord." With a flourish as if to display his true independence, the lackey turned and left the man in his office to gleefully plan his slowly forming future.

  
  


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This wasn't painful nor cold nor hot. This wasn't blissful nor suffocating. This was simply existing. 

Those were Sirius' thoughts as consciousness slowly wormed its way into his mind. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach, wishing he could sleep in a nice, soft, CLEAN bed just once more before he died.

Died? Didn't- Didn't You-Know-Who just catch him? Just k-kill him?

Sirius jerked up and looked about him in wide-eyed panic. His eyes met a very sullen Snape's and he stopped, if possible, even more terrified than before.

"Are we in Hell," Sirius asked breathlessly. 

Snape snorted and stood from his seat one of the hall's many antique chairs lining its walls, "No, but it is close."

"What happened? What did he do to us," Sirius asked standing and facing the tall, forbidding Potions Master. 

Snape snorted and moved to stand by the double doors leading to the room, "Placed us in a sort of living limbo. We can see, hear, feel and even taste all that goes on around us, but we may never interact with it. No others can see us, unless they know the proper spell for it."

Sirius' mouth hung limply open as he absorbed the information he'd just been given, "I failed...again."

Snape sighed, "We are not here to indulge in remonstrating your life's foolish actions. We'd need another lifetime to do it, if we were, and we do not have that."

Sirius glared at Snape, "So why haven't you left yet?"

Snape scowled darkly back at Sirius, "I've already tried. We seem to be connected by the spell. One can not leave the other."

Once more Sirius' jaw dropped in horror as he muttered a word that would've shocked Mrs Weasley. Snape simply cocked an eyebrow at his choice of words.

"Agreed," Snape told the distraught man. "Now, if you are finished bemoaning your fate, may we continue? I would like to find a way to break this spell and rid myself of you."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his old school rival and nodded abruptly. He walked swiftly forward and reached for the door handles - only to fall straight through the door, through a passing House-elf, who seemed slightly startled and spooked when he couldn't find what had touched him, and hit the floor with an "Oof!"

Snape calmly stepped through the doors and brushed the little House-elf, who this time shrieked and ran for all he was worth back to the safety of the kitchen. Snape smirked at the little creature's retreating back before stalking off in the opposite direction.

"No need to worry," Sirius called after the tall dark figure. "I can get up myself!"

Snape stopped and scowled, not bothering to turn toward his companion as he snarled back, "Hurry up! We haven't all day. Or have you forgotten that not only are we in trouble, but so is YOUR godson?"

Sirius shut-up, stood and, all the while glaring, began to follow Snape, muttering some speculating words on the other man's legitimacy. The silent pair moved through the dark hallways side by side, as if afraid to be alone, but not quite comfortable with being together. 

  
  


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His head hurt. It caused his eyes to hurt, his skin and teeth and lips to hurt. Even his scar and HAIR hurt. And his bed was much harder than it had been for the past week. Harry was sure of it.

Harry opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his skull and forced a gasp from his lungs. He moaned and turned over, wondering briefly when he would finally be allowed to die and escape his misery. 

"Care for him," commanded a familiar voice that was also laced with pain. 

Harry didn't have much time to wonder what it meant or who it was before his heard to unmistakable click of a key turning in a lock and the soft squeal of a metal door as it opened. He curled up in a tight fetal position, his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as his mind fairly exploded in white hot shards of pain. 

A light, cold hand softly tugged Harry's poor head up off the unforgiving ground and gently pried his head loose. Harry tightened his muscles, but the pain quickly drained his energy away and the hands won out. With nothing left in him to fight with, Harry let the hands open his mouth and drain in some foul tasting liquid, hoping only for a quick death. 

Almost immediately after the liquid was introduced to his system, Harry's pain began to ebb and soon it was little more than a lingering nuisance. Harry opened his eyes and stared uncomprehending at Himitsu's own dark orbs, which flashed momentarily with worry. 

"Finally," said the voice again, now free of pain and recognizable as the infamous Dark Lord's. "You certainly took your time, didn't you."

"I apologize, my Master," replied Himitsu gravely. "I moved slowly only to bar myself from causing anymore pain to interrupt your illustrious thought processes." His eyes still held Harry's and Harry felt distinctly comforted by this, though the man's words were less than comforting.

Voldemort snorted, "Be quicker next time. And cushion Potter's cell. We must keep our guest comfortable while he is yet needed."

"As you wish," Himitsu said, finally breaking eye contact and raising his head to give Voldemort a slight bow.

Harry turned his head to view Voldemort from behind a curtain of bars and black veils. It was as though Voldemort wished to forget he existed, but knew it was foolish to believe he ever could. Harry sighed and looked down to the hard metal floor of the cave, eyes widening as he noticed the color of his robes. 

"Didn't this used to be white," he asked, running his hands over the green and brown colors that lightly colored his garment.

"Yes," Himitsu answered. "It has been magically enhanced to display the power transfer that will be occurring over the next month. The largest transfer occurred last night and there will not be another until the last few days of the transfer. This will indicate to us if the transfer is proceeding on schedule or if it has for some reason been delayed, stopped or accelerated.

Anger surged briefly in Harry as he finally recalled the hazy events of the previous night, but he quelled it quickly. Anger would only get him killed at this stage. 

"Himitsu," growled the Dark Lord. "I do believe I gave you an order. Or have you deluded yourself into believing yourself my master?"

"No, my master," Himitsu called back, hurriedly scrambling to his feet. "No one may master you, my master!"

Himitsu quickly leapt from the cage and walked quickly to the door. His back was stiff and Harry thought he heard it crack as it crumpled beneath the weight of Voldemort's Crutacious curse. Screams flew into every corner of the room as the proud man writhed on the floor. 

"Remember that," Lord Voldemort told him in a low, dangerous voice. He watched coldly as the smaller man picked himself up off the floor, bowed deeply to his master and scampered as quickly as he could from the room. Voldemort laughed at his retreating back as a wave of nausea overtook Harry. 

"Don't like that, Harry," Voldemort said with a grin, striding over. "You should get used to it. I enjoy doing that."

With a sickening feeling, Harry realized that he could feel the pleasure of the evil creature before him. It seeped through his insides and into his heart, where Harry was sure he could feel it tainting his very soul. Suddenly more terrified than he had ever been, Harry scrambled quickly backward until the cage's other side's bars cut painfully into his thin back.

Voldemort's smile grew, "You could join me. It's not too late. You may not remember the dream I sent you the night after you were sorted, but I have always wanted you on my side. You are powerful and almost like a son to me. I did leave some of my power in you that night your mother's sacrifice defeated me, so you are the closest thing I have to a son."

Harry shivered and shook his head.

"I could grant you power," Voldemort continued as though scenting Harry's resolve might not be a firm as either had thought. "I could grant you the family you never had. You'd be my son, my heir, though I shall of course never suffer at death's hands. With you by my side, the entire world would fall to its knees before us by this time next year. And then you would be my second, as powerful as I and answerable only to me."

Temptation swirled though Harry, tugging at his heart, telling him that this was the only way to survive. His want of a family made it all the stronger until he was unsure if the feelings were his own or those of Lord Voldemort's, sent to sway him quickly. Bile rose in his throat along with contradicting words that Harry bit back as he lowered his gaze and attempted to hide himself from the red eyes he knew he would never escape.

"Think about it Harry," Voldemort told him cajolingly. "You could even keep your friends around as pets. I do believe Lucius mentioning something about one of them being a mudblood."

A weak spark of anger flared in Harry's mind, but was swept away by nausea. "You'd never allow me my friends," he replied thickly. "You'd kill Hermione immediately for being Muggle-born."

Voldemort laughed shrilly and walked into an adjacent room, his admonishment for Harry to think about it unspoken. It was unnecessary. He could feel the hope that had burrowed deeply into Harry's heart and knew now how he could sway the Boy-Who-Lived.

  
  


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Shinpi moved slowly down the hall, wondering who had charmed it to become ever longer. Finally he reached the kitchen and knocked a table clean of dishes and settled atop it.

"Sir would like a massage," asked a hesitant House-elf in a high voice. 

"No," Shinpi sarcastically, "I just thought a hard, wooden table might be comfortable to lay on."

The House-elf blinked and Shinpi sighed, "Yes, now hurry up!"

"Right away, sir," the House-elf cried and hopped up onto the table and began massaging the soreness from the man's tight muscles. 

The massage was heavenly and Shinpi had almost fallen asleep when another House-elf came screaming into the kitchen, his little feet moving little more than blurs and his face screwed up in a look of utmost terror. Shinpi jerked off the table in surprise and winced as he hit the floor hard, cracking his skull. 

He rubbed his throbbing head as the scared elf cried loud tears of terror and was surrounded by its fellows who tired unsuccessfully to quiet him as they threw looks of fear over at Shinpi. Shinpi sighed and, standing, slowly made his way over to the little elf. Quickly he covered the creature's mouth, effectively silencing and gaining his attention at the same time.

"What happened," Shinpi asked the House-elf who now watched him with large watering eyes.

"S-sir, Binky was only doing the laundry when two g-g-GHOSTS walked through Binky! Binky couldn't see them, so Binky got scared and ran away," the House-elf told Shinpi as he looked down at his feet, ashamed.

"Good work, Binky," Shinpi told the nervous little fellow jovially. "You've helped me a great deal."

Binky blinked quickly before grinning happily at Shinpi, "Binky happy to be of service to Sir!"

Shinpi chuckled and nodded, "Let me know if you find those... 'ghosts' again, will you Binky? Or if any of the others do."

Binky blinked, a slight amount of fear showing in his saucer-like eyes before he nodded and smiled at Shinpi again. "Binky will, Sir!"

"So you've found them," said a voice from behind Shinpi. 

Shinpi sighed and turned to face his round master. He almost grinned at the thought having a skinny master and a fat master, but he kept his face carefully neutral and nodded.

"Good," the short fat man said. He glanced at the House-elves who quickly scrambled back to their chores. "I want this room cleared of all you house-elves," he bellowed.

The house-elves jumped and fairly disappeared from the room. Once they were gone, the fat man held out a flask of potion to Shinpi.

"Use this to poison Potter."

Shinpi took the flask from his master and glanced at it before hiding it in his robes. 

"The Dark Lord is too volatile to allow to rule us," the fat master continued. "He must be destroyed and this is the perfect way to do it. Just make sure it's gradual. We wouldn't want any revenge attacks, though I can't see how anyone would actually want to avenge him, except possibly as a political move."

The fat man looked thoughtful at his own words as Shinpi felt a shiver of warning slide up his back. 

"It shall be done, Master," Shinpi replied to halt the man's thought processes. It worked and the man glanced at him, startled from his thoughts. "Everything will go as you say."

The ponderous man grinned and left the room with a nod. Shinpi sighed, felt the vile in his pocket and sat down for a moment. 

He disliked the idea of killing a child. But then, he hated being someone's slave even more. Neither really felt right to him, even after having grown up with it. He guessed that it had something to do with having lived in England as long as he had. The English were almost like the Americans with their ideas of freedom and Shinpi had heard that England had been where America had gotten its own ideas.

He glanced at the date and wondered how long after the Dark Lord's death it would be that his fat master killed him and came to power saying he had destroyed the Dark Lord's killer to one people and that he himself had done the deed to the other. Shinpi idly wondered how the man was going to keep the two stories from counteracting each other when the two sides of the war finally heard the other side's story. 

Finally he stood, putting the questions up to be thought about later. After all, no matter what happened, Shinpi himself was sure to not be a part of it. He strode quickly from the room, determined to finally start the job he had been sent to do when he came to the kitchens.

  
  


Next Chapter: ????


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